Truth, Trauma, and Transformation: Reimagining Justice Together
- IPF Staff
- Jun 26
- 5 min read
In a powerful and urgent gathering, advocates and changemakers from the Innocence Project of Florida, Equal Justice USA, LatinoJustice PRLDEF, and The Bail Project came together for a transformative conversation on the future of justice in America. This wasn't just a panel—it was a collective reckoning with the past, a challenge to the present, and a bold imagining of a more humane and equitable future.
The Roots of Injustice
To understand today’s criminal legal system, we must first acknowledge its origins. There is a direct and undeniable line from slavery, through Jim Crow, to mass incarceration and the modern punishment economy. Racial discrimination is not a flaw in the system—it’s the system working as designed. Nowhere is this clearer than in the history of the death penalty, which has long been weaponized against Black and Brown communities. During slavery, capital punishment laws explicitly targeted Black people—even for crimes that wouldn't have warranted death for white people. After the Civil War, lynchings became a terrorizing tool of racial violence. And when lynchings declined in the 20th century, legal executions surged in their place. In states like Florida, Maryland, Georgia, and Ohio, studies continue to show that people convicted of killing white victims are significantly more likely to be sentenced to death—reflecting a system that still places unequal value on Black and Brown lives.
This systemic racism also shows up in jury selection. Although it wasn't until 1986 that the U.S. Supreme Court ruled it unconstitutional to exclude Black jurors based solely on race, the practice continues in subtler forms today—under the guise of "race-neutral" reasons like appearance or neighborhood. As a result, many Black individuals never face a true jury of their peers, reinforcing injustice from the very beginning of the trial process. The legacy of racism extends beyond sentencing and into pretrial detention. As The Bail Project explained, cash bail—originally intended to ensure release—has morphed into a tool for de facto incarceration. Judges now routinely set unaffordable bail based on subjective "public safety" concerns, disproportionately affecting communities of color. While $500 might seem trivial to some, nearly 40% of Americans can’t afford a $400 emergency—making even minor charges a fast track to jail, lost jobs, or worse.
And then there’s the lived experience of incarceration itself. Michael Mendoza, LatinoJustice's National Criminal Justice Director, recalled earning just eight cents an hour while incarcerated—an echo of slavery that still defines the labor of imprisoned people today. This system doesn't heal, rehabilitate, or restore. It dehumanizes, often for life, and especially targets Black, Brown, and immigrant communities with stigmatizing language like “super predators” or “criminals,” used to justify brutal policies in the 1990s and beyond.
Challenging the Narrative: Justice ≠ Punishment
A powerful theme emerged throughout the conversation: we must dismantle the dominant narrative that equates justice with punishment. From decades of sentencing enhancements to fear-driven policymaking, we’ve seen again and again how a punitive model of justice not only fails to heal but actively deepens harm. We are called to challenge this idea head-on, pushing us to imagine a deeper, more human vision of safety and justice. At the heart of this reframing is a moral truth: every person is worthy of dignity, redemption, and a second chance. As it was framed during the conversation, one of the hardest things to contend with is the belief that “some people don’t deserve to come home.” This kind of thinking—dehumanizing, hopeless, vengeful—doesn't just miss the mark morally. It undermines safety, healing, and accountability.
Instead of asking how long we can lock someone away, Mona Cadena from Equal Justice USA encouraged us to ask: What does accountability look like? What does healing require? Who needs to be at the center of this conversation? Real justice must be about repair—not vengeance. And we can’t get there without centering the voices of those most impacted by harm and incarceration.
This conversation isn’t theoretical. Every legislative session, new laws are passed that extend sentences, create new crimes, or reinforce existing ideas. And they’re often pushed through without deep reflection—driven by fear, political expedience, or a flat caricature of who’s being punished. But those of us who have sat with impacted communities know the truth: people are not the worst thing they’ve ever done. They are family members, neighbors, and community leaders—many of whom work every day to repair harm, rebuild lives, and contribute something better.
What’s clear is that we can’t punish our way to safety. The systems we’ve built—bail, prisons, policing—are often framed as essential tools for public safety, but in reality, they function as mechanisms of control and oppression. As Josh Mitman from The Bail Project explained, when two people charged with the same crime face drastically different pretrial outcomes simply based on the money in their bank account, that’s not justice—it’s a distorted mirror of it. And it only deepens cycles of harm.
The work ahead is immense. But we’ve also seen the ground shift. Thirty years ago, the idea of ending the death penalty was otherworldly. Today, fifteen states have abolished it, and public support continues to decline. That change didn’t come from nowhere—it came from organizing, storytelling, and humanizing the people most affected.
So here’s the call: we all have a role to play in shifting this narrative. That means partnering across difference. Listening before prescribing. Working side by side with impacted communities. Asking who is missing from the table, and making sure we pull up a seat. Our job is not to roll in with the answer—it’s to accompany people, shoulder to shoulder, in pursuit of something better. Each of us, from our respective places, is working within concentric circles—overlapping, intersecting, facing each other, sometimes colliding, but always pushing forward. And in that overlap, in that shared space, is where solidarity lives. Because in the end, none of us are free unless all of us are free. And justice that doesn’t center humanity, healing, and hope isn't justice at all.
Moving Together Toward Justice
One of the most powerful takeaways from this ongoing series of conversations is how deeply interconnected our work is. Whether it’s bail reform, challenging wrongful convictions, ending capital punishment, or dismantling systemic racism in the courts—these are all different slices of the same fruit. The path forward requires us to break down silos. We need to build partnerships that are rooted in trust and mutual respect—not just collaborations of convenience, but deep relationships where we ask, What are you seeing? What do you need? How can we support each other? True solidarity begins with listening, not prescribing. It means showing up with people, not for them.
We must continue to center the voices of those most impacted. We’ve seen real change happen when the humanity of those directly harmed by the system is made visible—when justice-impacted individuals sit across from lawmakers and share their stories, when impacted communities guide the vision and lead the fight. That’s when the caricatures fade and real transformation becomes possible.
As organizers, advocates, and allies, our work is to accompany—not direct—communities. We ask ourselves, Who's not at the table? And then we make space. We move with power, not over it. This work isn’t easy. It takes time. There are setbacks. There will be moments when it feels like we’ve lost more than we’ve won. But every step, every conversation, every small shift moves us closer. And that’s why your role—every reader's role—is so critical. Whether you’re directly impacted or just beginning to learn, you are part of this fight. Find your people. Follow their lead. Ask how you can help. Be persistent. Be patient. And most importantly, stay in it. Because lasting justice doesn’t happen by accident—it happens when all of us show up, together, and refuse to let go.
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